Of Telamonian Ajax, whom I deem
Himself now busied in the stormy van,
Slaying the Trojans in my friend’s defence. 240
To whom the swift-wing’d messenger of heaven,
Full well we know thine armor Hector’s prize
Yet, issuing to the margin of the foss,
Show thyself only.  Panic-seized, perchance,
The Trojans shall from fight desist, and yield 245
To the o’ertoil’d though dauntless sons of Greece
Short respite; it is all that war allows. 
So saying, the storm-wing’d Iris disappear’d. 
Then rose at once Achilles dear to Jove,
Athwart whose shoulders broad Minerva cast 250
Her AEgis fringed terrific, and his brows
Encircled with a golden cloud that shot
Fires insupportable to sight abroad. 
As when some island, situate afar
On the wide waves, invested all the day 255
By cruel foes from their own city pour’d,
Upsends a smoke to heaven, and torches shows
On all her turrets at the close of eve
Which flash against the clouds, kindled in hope
Of aid from neighbor maritime allies, 260
So from Achilles’ head light flash’d to heaven. 
Issuing through the wall, beside the foss
He stood, but mix’d not with Achaia’s host,
Obedient to his mother’s wise command. 
He stood and shouted; Pallas also raised 265
A dreadful shout and tumult infinite
Excited throughout all the host of Troy. 
Clear as the trumpet’s note when it proclaims
A numerous host approaching to invest
Some city close around, so clear the voice 270
Rang of AEacides, and tumult-toss’d
Was every soul that heard the brazen tone. 
With swift recoil the long-maned coursers thrust
The chariots back, all boding wo at hand,
And every charioteer astonish’d saw 275
Fires that fail’d not, illumining the brows
Of Peleus’ son, by Pallas kindled there. 
Thrice o’er the trench Achilles sent his voice
Sonorous, and confusion at the sound
Thrice seized the Trojans, and their famed allies. 280
Twelve in that moment of their noblest died
By their own spears and chariots, and with joy
The Grecians from beneath a hill of darts
Dragging Patroclus, placed him on his bier. 
Around him throng’d his fellow-warriors bold, 285
All weeping, after whom Achilles went
Fast-weeping also at the doleful sight
Of his true friend on his funereal bed
Extended, gash’d with many a mortal wound,
Whom he had sent into the fight with steeds 290
And chariot, but received him thence no more. 
And now majestic Juno sent the sun,
Unwearied minister of light, although
Reluctant, down into the Ocean stream.[5]
So the sun sank, and the Achaians ceased 295
From the all-wasting labors of the war.